


Spilled Milk III

by Udunie



Series: Tumblr prompts [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Conditioning, Dirty Talk, Enemas, Fisting, Gangbang, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Object Insertion, Parasites, Stomach Deformation, Watersports, discussion of human waste, extreme penetration, mind-break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles did as he was told.</p><p>He had to. It wasn’t just the fact that he literally couldn’t empty his bowels without Deaton’s help either. </p><p>He didn’t understand what happened that night in the basement, but something in him broke and whenever Deaton or Peter made demands, he was powerless to stop himself from obeying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this will be a long note, here are the prompts I got for the sequel-sequel of Spilled Milk:  
> 1\. You hit all my shameful kinks with the "Spilled Milk" series, and I wondered if I could prompt a third part? Since you seem like/not mind extreme kinks, maybe some magically-made-plausible stomach distortion and extreme penetration? Like, either a sex toy or magically enhanced cocks or a dragon, whatever, but it stretches Stiles to where he should split, but he doesn't, and his tummy distends in the shape of the cock. Extra extra brownie points if Stiles is also used just as a cocksleeve as he gets used to the size? Just hanging limply from the cock, feet not even touching the ground, as his eyes roll back in his head and Peter and Deaton praise him for being such a good cockwarmer. If all that is too extreme (which I’d understand!) there are way too few soft cock kink fics. Like, Stiles still gets turned on and comes, but he can’t get hard. So he’s mocked and praised and his soft dick is played with like a toy, and Peter and Deaton just use this to really drive in the point that Stiles is for their pleasure, and not his own. He really just is two slutty holes. 
> 
> 2\. Ohhh! Can you do a small follow up to your egg fic with how the milking/enema routines go? Or perhaps deaton using some magic to make stiles super tight only to wreak him again? 
> 
> 3\. Hope you’ll write a third part of Spilled Milk someday. Maybe a few months into Stiles’ training, to show the permanent changes, like gyno-looking tits, completely slack hole, a mind that is more and more empty… Maybe even fulfill some of those threats-promises *-* 
> 
> 4\. How about a sequel to the sequel of spilled milk? Stiles is only allowed to use the bathroom once a day and he struggles with it. It has happened quite a lot of times that he had to abandon everything and go to the clinic and disturb deaton or Peter with his petty needs. So they decide that Stiles needs to be trained properly: they take him somewhere for a couple of days, fill him up and let him do various things(unleash your imagination!) while getting used to feeling full everywhere 
> 
> 5\. I agree with the other anon, I’d enjoy another spilled milk sequel (don’t worry I’ll read other stuff too). Since Peter and deaton don’t have time to take care of Stiles 24/7 but want him accessible 24/7, they train him to be quiet and not complain, no matter what he needs. Go crazy on how they manage to keep him obedient 
> 
> 6\. For spilled milk: Stiles sometimes has to come multiple times a day to relieve himself and deaton and Peter won’t have that. They have to break him of that habit somehow. How do they achieve that?
> 
> 7\. yo, Udunie, got an idea for the third spilled milk thing. Incubus gangbang! AT least for one part, then afterwards you get to see all the toys they buy with the new money. Maybe? now that I’m writing it it seems to mellow… 
> 
> 8\. For another round of spilled milk I would like to see some insertion or something where Stiles has to himself instead of being mobilized. Or some angst because the next incubus is in town and he doesn’t want anyone but his master and alpha to touch/fuck. Something along those lines. Bless you and the filth you provide us! 
> 
> Phew! I hope I didn't leave anything out.
> 
> HEAD THE TAGS AND WARNINGS

Stiles did as he was told.

He had to. It wasn’t just the fact that he literally couldn’t empty his bowels without Deaton’s help either. 

He didn’t understand what happened that night in the basement, but something in him broke and whenever Deaton or Peter made demands, he was powerless to stop himself from obeying.

Every morning, he would drive by the clinic, where the vet would lead him to the backroom and take his plug out. He had to get naked and bend over - holding onto his knees - while the man slipped a regular garden hose into his hole and flushed him out. Sometimes it would be hot water, other times icy cold.

Deaton liked it when he cried, so he usually filled him up until he was about to kneel over from the cramps.

When he was finished, he had to clean up after himself - since he wasn’t allowed to use the toilet, only a rusty metal bucket that the man only handed over when he was begging for it.

After he was done, Deaton waited for him in an examination room. He’s plug was locked back in place and he was looked over thoroughly. His cock cage was only removed once a week, and only so that the man could change the hollow tube that went into his piss slit for a bigger one. Stiles hated it. It took days for his cock to get used to the tightness straining it from the inside, and by the time he was finally comfortable with it, it was time for a new one.

He went to school, trying to stay out of the way of his friends while seeming mostly normal. Nobody was too surprised that he was a bit more closed off, they probably thought that it was some residual effect of first the nemeton, then the Nogitsune  _then_ the incubus.

He used the stalls in the bathroom, not wanting someone to glance over and see that he was in chastity, and, because he couldn’t aim that well with the unyielding metal on his dick, he usually pissed sitting down, like a girl.

After school, he went home, did his chores and some homework, chatted or skyped with Scott on occasion… Then it was time for bed.

Peter always came by. Sometimes he was still only getting out of the shower, sometimes he was already asleep, but the werewolf always climbed into his room.

When he was lucky Peter was in a good mood, and he would just take his plug out, knot his ass then finger his prostate until there was nothing coming out of his cock anymore and he was a shivering, oversensitive mess.

It wasn’t exactly like having an orgasm, but it was all Stiles had these days.

When he was unlucky - or Peter was exceptionally bored - he would get fucked then the werewolf would put whatever he found in his ass. And he kept taking pictures to send to Deaton.

Like, all of his highlighters, one by one. And Stiles had a lot of them.

The can of his deodorant.

On one occasion, Stiles’ baseball bat.

He remembered that vividly. His father wasn’t home that night, thankfully. Stiles sobbed a lot. The pain in itself wasn’t too bad - his hole was long ago used to the abuse - but Peter was not satisfied with the cleanness of his room, so he made him crawl around on all fours with a wet rag tied to the grip of the bat, so he could ‘wash the floor’.

It seemed redundant, because Stiles’ cock kept drooling and leaving a messy trail anyway.

* * *

Stiles really struggled with his new schedule sometimes. He had a fast metabolism, and on occasion he had to sneak out from school during lunch and go to the animal clinic because his stomach hurt so bad.

Deaton didn’t like that at all.

When he was even willing to flush him out again, and not just send him away, Stiles had to go to the toilet afterwards and hold himself open for the vet to use his ass as a urinal.

Sometimes Stiles cried, because the feeling of his hole getting filled with hot, fresh piss made his cock drool.

Deaton always plugged him up right after, telling him to enjoy his urine sloshing around in his belly for the rest of the day.

On those days, Peter didn’t take his plug out, just fucked his mouth and usually made him jump around, so he could describe in great detail the sound of the liquid squelching in his bowels.

* * *

On the weekends, Stiles had to go to the clinic for ‘checkups’. There wasn’t really an opportunity for him to go over for more than an hour or two, so it wasn’t that bad. He would usually get locked into the pillory. The nipple stretchers were always used - screws pulled tighter and tighter every time -, just like his holes.

It was the only time his cock cage came off, not like he was able to touch himself. Peter fucked him multiple times, his werewolf stamina making it possible for him to just stay inside after his knot deflated and then go another round after a few minutes of rest.

Deaton, on the other hand, liked to drag things out. He would fuck Stiles’ mouth leisurely, slowly training him to hold his cock in his throat longer and longer. 

Sometimes Stiles would faint from the lack of oxygen, and when he came around, the vet was already pissing on his face as punishment.

They installed a screen on the wall where Stiles could see it, and Peter would show him all the pictures he took of his hole during the week, or the videos he shot when Stiles lost consciousness - about the two men laughing at him. Sometimes they would jerk him off while he was blacked out and then showed him, telling him that his weekly orgasm quota was already filled and it was his fault for not being around to experience it.

When he didn’t faint Deaton pinched the head of his cock until he came screaming with pain.

For some reason, Stiles was always very pliant and content afterwards. He would beg and whine and do anything when they took him off the table and put his chastities back on, just so they would touch him. He called them Master and Alpha, and when Peter smiled, he was very happy.

* * *

One Monday, when Stiles woke up after such a weekend, his brain was clearer than it had been since the incubus.

He didn’t go the clinic that morning. He had nowhere to go - he couldn’t make himself go to the hospital, where they would see what was done to him, afraid that somehow they would know that he actually enjoyed mos… some of it.

He thought he would rather die from not going to the bathroom than being their slave anymore.

To his astonishment, Peter didn’t come to his room that night. Nor the next.

* * *

He broke down three days later.

By then, he couldn’t even get out of the bed from the pain and he had to call Peter. He only got his voicemail, and he proceeded to beg between sobbing pathetically for the whole two minutes of the allotted time.

He blacked out with the phone still in his hands.

* * *

When he woke up, he was laying on an examination table with Deaton between his legs, undoing the lock on his plug.

“The prodigal son returns,” Peter drawled from behind him, holding his wrists to the table.

“And just in time, too,” Deaton said. “I have no idea where we would have found another fucktoy with a body as filthy as this one if this bit the dust.”

Peter hummed. 

Stiles could barely hear them. He was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and would do something unthinkable as soon as his plug was out.

But, Deaton didn’t take it out right away. There was a cooling container on a tray beside him, and he took out something that looked like… Stiles didn’t know what. It was generally the shape and size of a banana, but it was white with small, yellow dots and it was segmented like a worm.

Peter squeezed his wrists.

“Like what you see? We ordered it from one of Alan’s shaman friends in Costa Rica as soon as we realized that you hit a bit of a rebellious phase.”

“She’s not a shaman,” Deaton put in as he slowly closed the plug before starting to work it out.

Stiles whined in his throat. He would have given his left testicle for a bathroom. Or his arm. Anything, really.

“It’s very special, I bet you will take a liking in it in no time…”

Stiles looked up at him dumbly, not even understanding what he was saying. When the plug was finally out he moaned, but his relief was short lived; as soon as it was out, Deaton took that… thing and forced it inside him.

Stiles thought he was going to throw up. The thing was cold - so, so cold - and the increase of the pressure in his bowels was painful enough that Peter actually had to put a bit of strength behind his hold on him.

Deaton quickly put his plug back, locking it again.

Stiles was kicking and screaming, pretty sure that he was going to die, until Peter let go of him and slapped him hard in the face.

In the silence after the crack of skin striking skin Deaton was already talking.

“Since you seem to have developed an aversion to following our mutually beneficial schedule, we thought you would be more comfortable with something like this.”

Stiles made a questioning whine in his throat. The short struggle took the last of his energy, and he couldn’t even move a muscle.

“That worm, well, more accurately it’s a parasite, is a supernatural creature. The powder made of it’s body is an important ingredient in a lot of more obscure potions,” the vet continued.

“But, most importantly, it thrives on human waste.”

Stiles shuddered, feeling his eyes grow wet. What. What did that even mean?

Peter reached down to pull on one of his nipples. They weren’t extremely deformed just yet, but Stiles knew that they did actually lengthen since they started stretching them. He couldn’t help moaning.

“The parasite will clean up your insides in a safe and efficient manner. Of course, with such wonderful food source, it will grow quickly, but I don’t think that will be a problem for a dirty anal whore,” Deaton said.

Stiles paled, concentrating on his ass. He could still feel the worm, though it lost the chilliness slowly, and, unless his mind was playing tricks, it was starting to… wiggle.

Peter had to hit him again a few times when he panicked from the unnatural sensation. Deaton continued, unfazed by his hysterics.

“The worm has a very effective metabolism, all it leaves behind is a thick slick that has some pleasant side effects,” he said with a smile.

Peter snorted.

“What he means, is that it secretes a great amount of low-grade aphrodisiac. You will be constantly turned on - not like that will be a huge change for such a cockhungry slut, except, oh…” Peter mock pouted at him, eyes laughing. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that, since, you know… Apparently you don’t like my company.”

Deaton rapped his knuckles on the table impatiently.

“Well, what are you still doing here? I don’t want to see your face until Saturday.”

* * *

That Friday, Stiles couldn’t go to school again. He wasn’t exactly in pain, but he couldn’t possibly be around people.

His belly grew. It wasn’t hurting anymore, but it looked like he had a five course meal and a bucket of ice cream. When he first noticed it, he called Deaton in a panic - the vet just told him that the worm was making a lot of slick and to get over it before disconnecting.

So yeah, his belly was getting big, but that wasn’t why Stiles stayed home. He was so horny that he wanted to die. It was like there was liquid flame in his veins. 

All he could think about was getting off. At first it made him embarrassed, but by that morning he didn’t feel a lick of shame about thinking of his Alpha and Master.

He wanted his Alpha. He wanted him so much, that he was dizzy with it. There was nothing better than his Alpha grabbing his hips and pushing his knot inside him. 

And Master? Stiles wanted to see him, to hear him call Stiles all those dirty names - slut, whore, bitch, fucktoy… all of them. His throat was thirsty when he though of his Master’s cock. He wanted to have it deep in his mouth, to make him gag and suffocate.

He wanted Master to pinch his cock. Or hit it, or squeeze it hard enough to make him scream.

He loved Master so much. And Alpha. 

And he loved the worm - it was heavy and it kept wiggling around, rubbing up against all the right places in his belly.

Friday night, Stiles left an almost illegible message to his father, and drove to the clinic.

He never went back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinks and Warnings: parasite, large insertion, gang-bang, manipulation, non-con, dub-con, mind break, body modification, watersports, humiliation, erectile dysfunction, enemas…
> 
> WARNING! EXPLICIT DESCRIPTION OF A LARGE, WORM-LIKE PARASITE THAT LIVES IN STILES FOR A FEW DAYS

Stiles parked the jeep - lopsidedly, he barely even remembered the drive over - behind the animal clinic. Master was there, but he didn’t let him in. He was told that he wasn’t allowed there until Saturday, and that was still an hour and a half away.

He was left to sit on the ground by the backdoor, hugging his knees and crying quietly. He was dying. He was burning up, and the worm… it just kept twisting and turning and wiggling in him. Occasionally it would bump into the plug, and some of the slick filling up Stiles’ belly would seep out beside it.

He didn’t understand what was happening. The worm seemed to be restless - it never behaved like that in the two days it lived in his bowels. His stomach grew so much since he left home that he had to undo the buttons on his jeans. Stiles couldn’t help pulling his shirt up and rubbing his palms over the smooth, tight skin stretching on the bulge of his belly.

By the time Peter arrived - a few moments before midnight -, he was just sitting there, drooling form being turned on beyond belief with the back of his pants soaked in the worm’s secretion.

* * *

Alpha had to carry him in when it was  _finally_ officially Saturday. He grumbled to Master about doing all the hard work, and that the bitch - oh… that must have been Stiles - didn’t deserve to be carried. When they made it down the stairs, the werewolf actually let him flop to the ground, and pulled him on the floor by the scruff of his shirt the rest of the way.

Stiles didn’t mind. Whenever Alpha’s hand just brushed the back of his neck, his whole body shivered with pleasure. 

They put him on the table and took his clothes off. Stiles wanted to help, but his limbs were all floppy and unresponsive, so he just let them do it. The pillory wasn’t in it’s usual place, instead, Master took out a pair of metal attachments that he fixed to the end of the table - the kind the women-doctors had, Stiles couldn’t remember the name… - and the man tied his legs to them, until he was spread wide open.

Alpha - because he was good, and nice and lovely - put something under Stiles’ back… a pillow? Something. So he could look at his belly. It wasn’t as huge as he was with the incubus’ pearls, but he definitely looked like he was pregnant.

Stiles giggled. It looked funny.

Master raised an eyebrow, then started to work on unlocking his plug. The small padlock was put away and then he was already collapsing the blades of it. Stiles whined. He could feel that the slick would come out as soon as it was removed. There was a distant sense of shame at the thought, but he didn’t care.

“Well, he seems to be completely gone,” Alpha commented. Stiles had to giggle again, though he had no idea why.

“That’s what you get if you let a slut’s inside practically stew in aphrodisiac. His head will clear a bit after we take the worm out, so you might want to get your camera ready,” Master said. Alpha hummed, and did just that.

“Come on, bitch! Give here a big smile,”

Stiles turned his head with some difficulty, but did as he was told, grinning into the lens. He even managed a small, floppy wave. His hands weren’t tied down. That must have meant that he was being very good.

“That’s it! Now, tell me, why you are here with us tonight?”

Stiles thought long and hard. He wanted…

“Cock!” he managed triumphantly. Alpha chuckled.

Right then, Master pulled his plug out and all of a sudden, there was a thick, whitish liquid rushing out of Stiles’ loose hole. He moaned as the pressure inside him finally eased. It felt good.

“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” Alpha said. There was a strong, sweet smell filling the room, it made Stiles’ head dizzy. Well, dizzier than before. 

He could feel his ass twitch as the last splash of liquid left him. The worm was still inside, though, squirming around vividly.

It was rubbing right along his prostate and the sensation was enough to have Stiles’ bound cock start to dibble come. His eyes rolled back into his head.

Alpha slapped him, hard enough that his head lolled to the side.

“Hey, you’re not finished yet. Get that shabby hole to work and push out your little parasite baby.”

Stiles blinked up at him dumbly, but Master got a hold of his balls and twisted them, making him cry out from the sharp pain.

“You heard Peter. Push. Believe me, you don’t want us to drag it out by hand.”

Stiles nodded, licking at the drool that was sliding down his chin. Yeah. Alpha and Master wanted him to do it, so he would.

He collected all the strength left in his body and  _pushed_. It didn’t work too well, just a few seconds in, he had to relax his muscles, because tensing them just made the worm rub against him harder and had his brain shorting out.

“Useless whore,” Master sighed, disappointed. Stiles whined. He didn’t… he wanted to, he just couldn’t!

Alpha rolled his eyes and handed his camera over.

“Yes, or maybe he just  _wants_ us to drag it out by hand. I mean, he does love a good fisting,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. Stiles was very happy from the sight of his naked chest.

Alpha didn’t waste time, he just put his hand in Stiles hole. He was loose from the constant use and slick with the secretion of the worm, but it still hurt when Alpha didn’t stop, not even when his knuckles caught on Stiles rim.

His cock didn’t twitch, but it spurted out some come again.

His insides were so oversensitive that he could feel Alpha’s every move in high definition; the way he rooted around, pushing until his whole forearm disappeared. Stiles could tell when he managed to get a hold of the worm, because it started struggling like crazy. He screamed from the pleasure as Alpha dragged the parasite out. It felt so good, so, so good. He was going crazy with it.

When the werewolf managed to pull it out - at least part of it - Stiles moaned. He could see it, hanging out of his ass. It grew big. Almost as thick as Alpha’s arm and it was long, it had to be more than a feet.

“Well, that’s something,” Master said, zooming in with the camera. Alpha let go of the worm for a few seconds, straightening up to get a better look.

“It’s like a tail! Come one Stiles, wag it for us, show us how happy you are to be here.”

Stiles giggled. It felt weird to have the worm halfway out. It’s hard - but somehow still bendy - body was tugging at the rim of his hole. It kind of hurt. But it also felt good.

He tried, wiggling his ass on the table as best as he could with his legs suspended in the metal frames.

Alpha laughed, catching the worm in his hand again and then  _yanked_.

Stiles could feel more come coming out of his caged cock, but it was almost an afterthought as his eyes rolled back and he was enveloped in darkness.

* * *

When he woke up, he was still on the table. He was folded in half with his ankles tied beside his head along with his wrists. 

Alpha was kneeling by his upturned ass and fucking him. It was feeling weird but Styles didn’t know  _why_ at first.

Oh.

Oh, with his body bent like this, he could actually see it; Alpha was fucking him with his knot fully formed. It kept catching on the rim, but Stiles’ ass was too loose to lock it in place, so he kept plunging it in and out.

Stiles moaned. From this close, he could see his hole clinging to it every time it pulled out. 

“Finally woke up, sleeping beauty? Well, no. Let’s make that sleeping dirty whore. Your hole is fucking disgusting, it doesn’t feel good at all,” Alpha said.

Stiles whined. Humiliation was building in him - he didn’t understand why. He was Alpha’s to use, right? Unconsciously, his body tensed from the feeling, making the knot catch for a few seconds.

Alpha grinned, hips still jackrabbiting into him.

“So have you noticed?” he asked.

What? Stiles licked his lips and made a confused noise. He was feeling good, so it was hard to concentrate. He loved Alpha’s knot.

That’s when Master spoke.

“He means the  _other_ side effects of the worm, Stiles,” he said. He stepped up to the table and lifted Stiles cock before letting it flop back again.

Stiles had to look closely, because he didn’t understand it; he was feeling good, but his dick was completely soft. That… That wasn’t right, was it?

Alpha laughed at the expression on his face, then grunted as Stiles’ ass tightened again with his muscles locking in panic.

“Yeah, you won’t be getting hard anymore, and the best part? It’s permanent.”

* * *

Afterwards, when he calmed down a bit - well, he didn’t really calm down, but he did completely exhaust himself with struggling and crying - his head cleared a bit. He was completely devastated.

It didn’t stop Peter from fucking him two more times - he said the aphrodisiac slick was effecting him - it took hours. In the end Stiles barely even felt it.

Deaton explained to him in detail what happened to his cock. Apparently, he would still be able to reach orgasm - with a bit of extra work, since it wouldn’t get as sensitive as it did when it was hard - but he would not be able to get an erection. Ever.

Peter told him that he didn’t need his cock anyway; all he was good for was to take cock in both his holes, and he wasn’t even good at that.

The worm - they explained - also effected his nipples. Stiles couldn’t see them in this position, but he could feel a low grade burning sensation if he concentrated. 

“You would have developed actual breasts, if we let it stay in longer… but then we wouldn’t have been able to take it out. Now you will just leak a bit of milk. Not real milk, of course, it will be a version of the aphrodisiac,” he said.

Stiles cried quietly. Peter was finishing in him again, but he was already so full that the come kept gushing out beside his hole.

“We will be able to sell it for a nice sum, so at least you can pay us back for keeping you,” Deaton said.

Keeping him, they did.

* * *

Stiles lived in the basement from then on. He had a little nest in the corner, made of his captors’ dirty clothes - socks, underwear, shirts, whatever - they took it away every Friday to wash and exchanged them to the laundry they’ve collected that week. It was a bit lumpy and smelled pretty bad, but he got used to it.

There was an eye-bolt screwed into the wall and Stiles was chained to it by his plug. He was so loose, that even the largest anal chastity model was starting to feel small. Deaton ordered him a custom made one, designed after a medieval ‘pear of anguish’.

The first week was the hardest. He kept crying. It wasn’t really that he wanted to go home, he just slowly came to understand that he was changed forever. His cock was kept in a new cage - it was actually a metal tube -, they didn’t have to worry about him popping a boner, they just didn’t want him to play with himself.

The vet milked him every day. He would be tied to the pillory and attached to a honest-to-god milking machine. Deaton liked to have it on the highest setting, because that was the fastest and because it hurt enough that at one point Stiles wet himself. 

When he was complaining or protesting too much - well  _any_ , really -, the man left him there for an hour or two, with the machine running and rhythmically sucking on his tits with enough force that he thought they were going to come off.

He didn’t produce much milk, just a cupful a day, but Deaton measured it into tiny bottles and sold them on the internet. Naturally, he kept some for himself. Normally, his human stamina couldn’t keep up with Peter’s but when he used Stiles’ milk he could go for hours without going soft. Sometimes Stiles just woke to the spidergag in his mouth and the vet’s cock deep in his throat.

Peter fucked him daily, of course. He used his cock or his fist and he used toys too. They also bought a [hollow but plug](http://shop.oxballs.com/PIG-HOLE-DEEP-Fuckplug-OXBALLS-OX-1339.htm) that they could fuck him through. Apparently it made his lax opening just tight enough to be passable.

He was also constantly wearing a wide metal ring around his scrotum. Alan wanted to stretch it, he said he wanted Stiles to have a body just as obscenely bizarre as his mind.

More and more often, he slipped into that weird head space where he could only think about them as Master and Alpha and acted exactly like the stupid, come-hungry whore they said he was. It was nice not to worry about anything. And, when he was really,  _really_ good they would get his cock cage off and play with his floppy, soft dick. It took a lot of time. Master would hold it tight with a pair of blunt tipped forceps and Alpha would keep flicking the head on the sensitive underside until Stiles came or blacked out. Or usually, both.

Afterwards, when his mind cleared, he could remember what happened and he would curl up in a ball and sob in humiliation as the memories washed over him. 

* * *

Master invited three incubi to play with him on his third week in the basement.

It ended up being great, even though the men didn’t seem to enjoy it that much. They kept making comments about his body, and pulling disgusted faces. Stiles couldn’t help giggling. 

Alpha didn’t tie him up. He brought in a dirty, used mattress and had Stiles fucked there while he was filming. 

He did everything he could to make it better for the nice incubi, but it was hard. For a few days now, his ass felt different. His rim was swollen fat and wouldn’t close at all. Master examined him, and told Alpha that his ass would turn inside out if they worked at it a bit more.

It was weird to be fucked by strangers. At first he was scared, because he didn’t want to be touched by anyone other than Alpha and Master, but Alpha slapped him in the face a few times, and told him that he had to be grateful that he had more cocks to stick into his ass.

So he was, he was grateful.

When the incubi were done, Alpha held him upside down while Master put a funnel into his hole and filled his belly with a gallon of that familiar, purple liquid that had lights dancing in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Yeah okay. So apparently, there will be a part III too…  
> Come and talk to me on tumblr? udunie.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okkay, so I’m gonna tie this up finally. This will be pretty fucking extreme (even by my standards) so read with caution!

After Master filled him with the enema, stiles slept. He didn’t remember dreaming anything, but when he woke up with his head clear, he was hoping that he was in a nightmare.

His belly was as large a pregnant woman’s overdue with triplets.

He was lying on the table again, and he immediately started sobbing, hands darting over that impossible bulge.

Peter was there by his side in a second, hefting his body up so he was on his hands and knees. His stomach was almost brushing the table.

“Stop that, bitch!” he said, slapping him when he started hyperventilating. It was hard to breath, the pearls were pushing at his lungs from underneath. “If you don’t behave yourself, we will leave you like this.” 

Stiles tried to calm down, he hated this, but the thought of being left alone was terrifying. Deaton came through the door, locking it. He walked behind Stiles and pulled out the huge plug that kept the enema in. The pressure was actually so huge, that as soon as his hole was free, three of the pearls were forced out of him, clanking on the table.

“Well, at least we won’t have a problem with you being too tight,” the vet said. Stiles thought that he was going to tell him to push, but instead he just got to the side of the table, and started pushing on Stiles’ stomach with his hands.

His eyes rolled back into his head from the feeling of more of the shiny, purple globes getting squeezed out of him, but the scariest part was that he could barely feel the stretch, even though he knew they were huge.

* * *

Stiles was completely ruined. For three days after he was fucked by the incubi he just lay on his little nest. He couldn’t help reaching behind himself from time to time to feel his ass. It was completely open and slack and it didn’t tighten up at all.

He was given food a few times a day, and a bucked to do his business in, but otherwise he was completely ignored. He didn’t even get his cock cage back and his nipples hurt, oozing constantly from not being milked for so long.

Peter was in the basement a lot, but he was usually tapping away on his laptop, acting like he was alone. Stiles didn’t like it. He hated what he became, what was done to him, what  _they_ did to him, but… He didn’t want to be alone, he had no one other than Peter and Deaton and being ignored by them was the worse of all.

On the third day he finally managed to gather enough strength to crawl over to the armchair Peter was using. When he got close enough, he could see that he was watching a video of Stiles getting fisted by Deaton - he didn’t remember when it was taken, but that was no surprise.

Stiles licked his lips nervously.

“A-alpha?” it felt weird to stay it when he wasn’t swallowed in his own head, but at the same time it was somehow  _right_.

“What is it, bitch?” the werewolf asked without taking his eyes off the screen. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Stiles didn’t know what to do. Peter was barefoot, so he just… He bend down and started licking at his feet. Thankfully, it worked.

“Aw, what an eager, needy little slut you are,” he said, voice sweet. He shifted his legs and pushed his toes into Stiles’ mouth. “It’s too bad that your body is completely useless… I mean, seriously. It’s disgusting.” 

Stiles whined, doubling his efforts and sucking on Peter’s feet as best as he could.

“But I guess, I could be persuaded to give you a few minutes. Are you willing to persuade me, Stiles?”

Stiles looked up at him, pulling his mouth off the werewolf’s toes with a wet pop.

“Yes! Yes, Alpha, please!”

Peter smiled, looking at him in consideration for a few long moments.

“Alright. Let’s see if you are able to learn a few new things,” he said. “Put your fist in your hole.”

He got on his knees, that was easy enough. Stiles could still feel a few tears sliding down his cheeks from humiliation as he jammed his hand into his own ass as far as he could, but it was dim.

“That’s it. Now, Stiles. What you are doing now is fisting your cunt. Do you understand?”

Stiles shivered at the word, but nodded, biting his lips as he pumped into his hole.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Say it.”

“I… uh, I’m fisting my cunt.”

“Exactly. Now get your other hand on that limp little thing between your legs.”

Stiles did, playing with his soft cock. He squeezed the head between two fingers, but it didn’t feel as good as when Deaton did it.

“That is your clit,” Peter prompted.

“My… my clit,” he repeated obediently. He was close to coming already. Like always when he was about to have an orgasm, his nipples doubled their effort in producing ‘milk’. The cloudy liquid was running down his front.

“And those weeping, swollen nipples of yours, they are called bitch tits. Now, Stiles, tell me what you want and use the proper words.”

Stiles was on the edge of coming, wiggling his fingers in his hands as he pulled on his dick painfully. He wanted Peter to help him.

“I want… I want you to fuck my cunt. P-put your hand in it. And I… I want Master to pinch my clit until I come… And to… to milk my bitch tits.”

Peter smiled.

* * *

It got better. He had to ask Peter - using the new words he was taught - when he wanted to be played with, and sometimes even Deaton joined in. He noticed that they were actively encouraging it when he was slipping into that headspace, where all he could think about was them, but he stopped minding it. 

It was much simpler when he was like that. He made an effort to start thinking of them as Alpha and Master even when his head was clear, and it made easier to lose his mind.

One day, he woke up to the sound of drilling. He was confused, but after he managed to pry his eyes open, he saw that it was Peter, fixing a stainless steel bollard to the floor.

Stiles didn’t know what was happening, but he had a bad feeling.

Deaton came in just as he was finished, and he gave an appreciative once-over to the pole. 

“Drag your ass here, slut,” Peter said. Stiles did, feeling unsettled.

The werewolf crouched down in front of him, holding out one of the incubus pearls.

“See this? If we wanted, Alan could use this to get your gaping cunt back to normal,”

Stiles looked at the orb with wide eyes. Would they… would they do that for him? His ass had been broken for so long that he didn’t even remember what it was like to not feel the air brushing his insides when he moved.

“But,” Peter said. “It would be a waste not to get one last show out of it, hm? Will you be good for us?”

Stiles nodded his head eagerly.

Deaton threw a bottle of lube at him, and motioned at the bollard.

“Well, then get to it. I want to see your pussy swallow the whole thing.”

Stiles trembled. That. That wasn’t possible. The pole wasn’t too long - about two feet, with a four inch diameter - but it was still intimidatingly huge.

Peter waved the pearl in front of his face.

“Of course, if you don’t want it, you can just get back to your place.”

Stiles swallowed and stood on shaky legs. He poured half of the bottle of slick on the bollard and carefully smeared the whole thing. Touching it with his own fingers just drove home how large it was. When it was slippery enough, he carefully lowered his ass above it, until it was pushing against his loose hole.

He had to moan as the cold metal made contact, but he kept going. 

He had to work for it, but soon enough, he could work the blunt tip into himself. His muscles were shaking from keeping him in position. Slowly, so, so slowly he took more of it. 

When he was around half way down, he thought he couldn’t take a single inch more. There was drool on his chin, and his eyes kept losing focus from having a foot of unyielding metal lodged in his ass.

Peter clicked his tongue in annoyance, then before Stiles could react the werewolf kicked one of his legs out from under him, making him lose his balance and just… slide down.

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a while. When he came to, both men were kneeling in front of him, feeling up his stomach. He looked down and whined, the outline of the tip of the bollard was clearly visible through his stomach.

Stiles started giggling hysterically. He was pretty sure that he was going to die. Alpha slapped him.

“Stop that and get to work,” he said, pinching one of his bitch tits, “Fuck yourself on it.”

Stiles giggled again, but did as he was told, straining his thighs to lift him a few inches, the slid back down. Then he did it again.

“This is actually pretty amazing,” Master said, sounding slightly impressed.

“Tell me how it feels,” he added.

“Ahahah… my cunt is hurting so good, Master. My cunt is twitching like crazy…” Stiles said, moving a bit faster. He couldn’t take his eyes off his distended belly. “It so big. I wanna come, I wanna squirt with my clitty real bad… I think I’m gonna die…”

Alpha chuckled.

“No you won’t, bitch. Alan already put a spell on you, otherwise this wouldn’t even be possible. Move fater.”

Stiles did. Going as fast as his body could take him. It wasn’t enough for Alpha, because he stood behind Stiles and took hold of his ankles, lifting them up and up and up until they were up by his head.

Stiles sputtered.

“Hug your knees, I’m going to give you a real nice ride,” Alpha said. Stiles did, and just like that, Alpha started yanking his body up and down over the pole until there was some kind of foam coming out of Stiles’ mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Master watched, then, when Alpha let him drop with the bollard as deep as it could go, he slapped Stiles’ clit hard.

He couldn’t even remember coming.

* * *

Master and Alpha kept their promise and restored Stiles’ cunt - and then they broke it all over again, slower this time. And then again, healing his cunt whenever the got too sloppy.

Stiles changed a lot - after the first time he fucked the bollard his head never cleared up. Not like he minded. He loved his Alpha and Master, and he didn’t even wanted to remember that he didn’t at one time.

For the first year anniversary of him staying in the basement, he got a lot of piercings and tattoos.

There was a heart on his right ass cheek that had ‘Bitch loves Alpha’ written in it, and another one on the left side with ‘Slave loves Master’. He was very proud of them.

His favorite was the piercing in his citty, though. It had a little bell on it, that would tinkle whenever he was fucked. Master and Alpha didn’t always have much time for him, because he was boring, but they bought him a fuck machine with a dildo that was molded after Alpha’s fist, and they let him use whenever he wanted. Stiles loved it.

Of course, the best was when they got his cunt to be tight again, and Alpha broke it in with his knot right after while Master choked Stiles on his cock.

Stiles loved every minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this is even

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you dare!
> 
> But it's totally okay if you would rather leave me an anon message - you can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


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